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by silentexplorer18



Category: Colby Brock - Fandom, Sam and Colby, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Dancer Reader, F/M, Mild Language, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Puerto Rican Reader, Sappy, Sweet, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentexplorer18/pseuds/silentexplorer18
Summary: After arriving in Los Angeles for work, you realize that there may be as many reasons to stay as there are to go back to your family in Puerto Rico.  After going to visit with Colby in tow, you realize where your home truly is.
Relationships: Colby Brock / Reader
Kudos: 4





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**Author's Note:**

> This was from an anonymous request over on my Tumblr where it was requested that I write about a female reader from Puerto Rico that teaches Colby about the culture and how to dance. I tried to do a bit of research on Puerto Rican culture in order to write this fic, but if there are any inaccuracies I need to fix, please let me know. :)

L.A. was only supposed to be a minor detour from my normal life. I’d got a job at a dance studio there, and the pay had been too good to pass up. A little reluctantly, I’d moved back to the States. The plan was that I would stay for six months, keep my job and rack up a little money to send home to my family, and then when the time was up, I would move back to Puerto Rico.

Yet a series of pure coincidences derailed those plans.

To pick up a little extra money, you agreed to be a background dancer for a music video that some wealthy hot shot was putting on. Unbeknownst to you, that hot shot was Elton Castee, and the video was a day of breaking Guinness World Records.

You’d Ubered to the set that morning and after talking to a few people, finally found the man you were looking for. Elton was standing with his friends discussing the plans for the day’s events as you’d approached to discuss what he wanted you to do for the video.

Maybe it was the way your doe eyes gazed at them curiously or the way your hair would fly as your hips dipped with the music or even just the melodious cadence of your voice, slightly accented from your upbringing. Whatever it was, Colby was smitten.

Although he tried to play cool, act flirtatious and clever in his remarks, you didn’t give him much of a second glance throughout the day, focused instead on the job you’d been hired to do.

But as the sun set, that job came to an end.

You approached the same group as earlier, prepared to thank Elton before you called your Uber and retreated back to the tiny apartment space that the studio owners let you utilize. However, you couldn’t escape that easy.

In true L.A. fashion, the gang was throwing a party. You weren’t much of a party type, but the girls had begged and after a few minutes, you relented.

At the mansion, you didn’t drink, knowing that being hungover on top of tired would only make you more prone to injuries at the studio tomorrow. But they did manage to convince you to dance. Your hips swirled on the dance floor as you curved your body to match the rhythm. Giving you a soft smile, not an overconfident one that you were typically used to, Colby made his way across the makeshift dance floor to you, hands gently falling to your hips as his voice fluttered to your ear. “Is this okay?” Smiling back up at him, you nodded, leaning into the ripples of his body a little more as you continued to sway your hips.

After a few more songs, the two of you wandered away sweaty and breathless. He offered you a drink, but you declined, reminding him _some_ people had to get up early in the morning.

With a smile, he nodded, downing a shot of vodka before gaining the courage to ask his next question. “Do you wanna go out sometime?”

You left that night with a smile on your face and Colby Brock in your phone. He called a few days later, asking about a coffee date. Then came dinner. And movies. And filming together. And all of a sudden you were falling for this boy even though you were never meant to.

And then your time was up and you were sitting on Colby’s bed crying because for the first time in your life Puerto Rico didn’t feel like home anymore. You weren’t ready to leave behind the life you’d started for yourself in L.A. Another studio had offered you a job, this time indefinitely, and your social media was beginning to take off with the help of the boys. You were gaining your own future.

But you didn’t have the money to stay. Almost every penny you sent home for your family. Abuelita was starting to get older and needed more and more health care; she needed the money more than you did.

Colby held you close through the tears, offering to let you live with him in his new apartment after he moved in a few weeks.

“Colby, I couldn’t impose,” you sniffled softly, eyes watering at his generosity.

“When have you ever, baby?” he cooed. “I want you to stay with me. (Y/n), I think I’m in love with you,” he whispered, allowing the words to register.

“You are?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, pulling you a little tighter against him.

“I think I’m in love with you, too, Colby.”

“Then stay.”

And stay you did.

It was a year from when you had first arrived in L.A. when you were finally convinced by your family it was necessary to go back to Puerto Rico to visit. Your cousin was celebrating her birthday, and it was going to be a huge event. After hearing about Colby, your parents insisted he come with you in order for them to meet him and provide their approval or lack thereof.

Of course, you’d told the sweet boy before about not being from the continental United States, explaining a few things about your home as questions emerged. He was pretty interested in the stories you had to tell, but some things were just beyond his capacity of imagining, and you were thrilled at the prospect of showing him the world you’d grown up in.

When you landed, the flight attendant came over the speaker to inform you to exit the aircraft in an orderly fashion and to have a great day. You’d explained the gist of the message to Colby, as the lady had spoken in Spanish, but dropped the matter when a space opened up for the two of you to push into the aisle.

That day, you visited home immediately, finding yourself enveloped in the arms of those you loved most. Your family welcomed Colby with open arms; however, he couldn’t stop the torrent of questions that emerged as your parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins asked about the world you’d become so involved in. Colby’s world.

He explained YouTube and told them about awesome places in L.A., pulling photos from his phone to highlight the important bits. He got along well with everyone, and the little kids absolutely adored him. Not only were you with your family, you were with everyone that encompassed that title. Even Colby. And no one, not even Colby, seemed upset about it.

He even helped wrangle the kids and do chores for your mother. When Abuelita needed something, he would race to get it, returning with a sweet smile.

After spending lots of time with your family, the two of you took to the streets where you explained the beauty and history of the land you called your own. He was fascinated with everything you had to offer, from the alcapurría you had for lunch, to the hibiscus blooming in the grass during nature walks you took, to the fun facts you resurrected from memories of history classes. This was _your_ world, and he was drawn to it like a moth to flame.

It was a few days later, the night of your cousin’s party, when you finally felt like everything had aligned perfectly. You’d done up your hair with some pins and slid into a flowing red dress. Although heels adorned your feet, you knew you’d probably opt for discarding them under a table somewhere. The longevity of dancing at these parties was too much to fathom wearing daggers upon your feet for hours on end.

Slipping from your bedroom, you found Colby sipping a glass of water, making conversation with your mother. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw him; his dark hair framed his face, bright eyes solely focusing on your mother. It was precious. But it was also impossible to deny how handsome he looked. Snow white pants and a blood red shirt adorned his body, hands glinting with his usual rings. He was hot.

And so were you.

His eyes grew wide when he saw you approaching. Although he tried to play it cool, you could see how amazed his was with your appearance. He’d seen you in costumes many times before for various recitals, photoshoots, and music videos, but he’d never seen you in something so stunning that was also so _you_.

“Hi,” you said softly, wrapping an arm around his waist and smiling up at him.

“Hey,” he said, red beginning to run up his neck. “You look really pretty.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said, grinning wider.

“He looks like a very handsome young man,” your mother said, shooting you a sassy look. “You should _actually_ compliment him more often, (Y/n). If you’re going to make him dress to match you, the least you could do is tell him he’s doing a great job.”

“Okay, mom,” you said with a giggle. “Colby, you look _very_ handsome tonight.”

“Sí, sí, sí,” your mom said, “Now go! Enjoy the party!” Using a dish towel, she shooed the two of you out of the kitchen and toward the front door. The venue was only a few buildings down the street, and you could already hear the beat of the music radiating through the open windows.

“Estás bella,” he whispered in your ear as you traipsed toward the colorful brick building. _You’re beautiful_.

Blushing, you slid your arm into his.

“Where’d you learn how to say that?”

Bashfully, he ducked his head. “Your family may have given me a few lessons while you were getting ready for the party.”

Giggling, you leaned your head against his shoulder before entering the celebration, a silent reassurance that he had warmed your heart and done exactly the right thing.

After some required mingling, you’d managed to pull Colby to the dance floor. Wide eyed, he took a step from you. “I don’t know how,” he rushed.

Grabbing his hands, you pulled him toward you. “Baby, it’s okay. I can teach you. Salsa’s not that hard.”

He glanced at you warily. “You’re a dancer. Nothing’s hard.”

Squeezing his hands, you reassured him, “Things have been hard to learn for me, too. But this will be okay. Please? We never dance like this in California.”

Your big, pleading eyes and hopeful look made it impossible for him to avoid relenting, though his gaze still remained wary. “Go slow,” he murmured.

Beaming, you nodded. “Okay, I’ll show you the steps and then we can try going to the beat. Step back with this foot first.” Sticking out your heel, you poked his left foot. He did as you said, and you stepped forward with your right. Counting the beat, you then moved to a mirroring position. Back and forth, back and forth, hands interlocked, hips swaying gently to the music. At first, Colby’s eyes were glued to your feet, but as the rhythm started to become more familiar to him, his eyes would dart up to yours, a childlike grin spreading across his cheeks.

After a few songs, he got courageous, attempting to add twirls and dips into your makeshift dance routine. His eyes would dart around the room, watching the more experienced men twirl their partners before attempting the same moves with you. Although the first twirl caught you off guard and the two of you definitely almost tumbled into the punch bowl, his moves grew more confident, body shifting naturally against your own.

When stopping to catch your breath between songs, your parents had pulled you away to exclaim just how wonderful they found him. Your father was never one to fully accept guys; he couldn’t stand the thought of his daughter ever being old enough to date. Yet even _he_ had an approving glean in his eye as you’d jumped into their arms and told them how happy you were that they liked him, too.

It was the best night you’d had in months. Walking arm and arm with him under the stars on the way home, you couldn’t help but let a goofy grin spread across your cheeks. “You know, you’re actually a pretty good dancer,” you admitted to Colby.

“Hm, is that so?” he queried, signature smirk sliding onto his lips as his confidence grew.

“Yeah, baby.” You walked a bit more in silence before making your way into the unoccupied house. As part of your parents’ rules, the two of you slept in separate rooms. He’d kissed your forehead before parting ways with you to head down the hall, but before he could recede into the privacy of his own room, you called out, “Colby?”

“Yeah?” he said, turning to face you.

“Thank you for everything. The dancing, the visiting, coming with me, learning a little Spanish. Everything. It means so much.”

“Of course. Anything for you,” he murmured. “But you should go to bed, baby. You look sleepy.”

A few days later, the two of you hopped onto a plane and flew back to L.A. He’d adjusted the arm rest, allowing you to snuggle against him as you’d discussed the trip and he messaged Sam about upcoming filming concepts.

“Thanks for coming with me,” you said again, already growing comfortable leaning against Colby’s warm body.

“Of course, baby. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah,” you sighed out, smile unconsciously adorning your lips. “It’s the first time I’ve felt really at home.”

Turning a little more against you, he queried, “What do you mean?”

“When I lived here, I always felt like there was a little piece of me that was missing. That’s part of why I took the job offer for L.A. And when I met you, I finally realized that I’d found the piece I was missing. But then I started to lose touch with my family and where I was raised. So I still felt like there was a little something missing. This is the first time that I’ve felt like my life was absolutely perfect. Puerto Rico, you, the two of you make up my home.”

Wrapping an arm around you, he pulled you against him gently. “Then I guess we’ll just have to come back more often, won’t we?”

You smiled. “I guess we will.” A few moments of silence lapsed before your mind interrupted your glee. “But what about filming? You had to work like crazy to backlog videos for while we were gone.”

“Are you telling me that there’s nothing haunted in Puerto Rico?”

“I never said _that_ ,” you giggled.

“Then don’t you worry your beautiful mind over what I’m gonna film. If it makes you happy, we’ll find a way to do it, baby. I always want you to feel at home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. You can also find me over on [Tumblr](https://silentexplorer18.tumblr.com/).


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